


Charlie Mads in THE SYNTHETIC HEART

by TreacherousThoughts



Series: Charlie Mads vs the Commonwealth [1]
Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4
Genre: Background Relationships, Blood and Injury, Canon-Typical Violence, Gen, Gun Violence, Not Beta Read, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Temporary Character Death
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-08
Updated: 2020-11-08
Packaged: 2021-03-09 05:08:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,166
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27459250
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TreacherousThoughts/pseuds/TreacherousThoughts
Summary: Charlie Mads meets Detective Valentine for the first time...in Diamond City! Trading info for a bit of time with the old synth, Charlie ropes Valentine into allowing them to follow him into saving Darla from her new sweet heart, Skinny Malone. An old quest line with a fresh take, will Charlie manage to hang around the detective long enough to earn his trust, or will the man's smarts key him in too close to the truth...that there's more to Charlie then what meets the eye?
Relationships: Nick Valentine & Original Character(s)
Series: Charlie Mads vs the Commonwealth [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1985833
Kudos: 1





	Charlie Mads in THE SYNTHETIC HEART

**Author's Note:**

> One of the very first in Charlie's timeline of adventures, and, like with later characters, I enjoyed the heck out of writing Valentine.

Diamond City was looking pretty rough. 

Having stalked along the outer edges of the settlement, Mads got a pretty good eyeful of the state that it was in. It was booming, bustling with life that packed the stands. Like with the rest of the 'Wealth t

Thus far, it held plenty of surprises, given the sheer amount of homes and businesses piled up along the inner walls, much more than the game ever provided. The farther they looked up and along it's sloping recourse, the larger the adobes were. A few even had glass windows, their sills decorated with hanging flower arrangements, and their walkways with people in gauche suits and fluttering skirts despite the chilly spring weather. 

Inside the walls, the jewel revealed it's questionable history. Alleys were thin, the cramped paths between each were lined with sheets of metal, separating ratty footwear from the mud. It was in the heart of the city, at ground level, where business was thickest. Even from outside the city previously, Mads could hear the cries of people selling wares drifting up, up, into the air. 

Yet within, Mads stood along the railways of the stands, and glimpsed whole districts, workshops, bars, and even a strip club tucked away and decked out in neon lights that pushed back the looming shadows of it's overhanging neighbors. Billboards stood tall, framing the walls, and acting as clever sniper nests that over looked the 'Wealth and kept it back at the same time. Mads had to hand it to the guy obsessed with the wall in the game, too, because it was pretty damn fortified.

Connecting the above world of the stands and that of the common below, there was a webbing of wire crisscrossed throughout the city. Travis Miles' bumbling apologies raced along a few of those cords, spilling from radios tucked behind walls of the metal jungle surrounding Mads, and to complete the rusting spectacle of man was the blue, echoing sky above. Prettier than any picture could provide. 

Someone passed by them from behind, a figure in weathered tweed scoffing under their breath but not bothering to talk for a chat. Mads huffed through their nose, wondering if the person noticed if the shacks of the above were made out of the same browning material as those used below.

"So much for the Cloud District," Mads muttered to themselves, and a genuine smirk found itself across their face. Abandoning the reaching balconies of the upper district of the Diamond, Mads straightened up and made their escape, letting their feet clatter all the way down as they forwent the elevator in favor of just walking. 

Mads would be a terrible liar if they said they weren't somehow excited to be there. It was a city of bigots, but it was still Diamond City, and outside of Goodneighbor it had to be the most populated. Just seeing the noodle stand, it's tented red ceiling hanging in draping layers, and it's top most curtains stretching so far as to grip onto stalls surrounding it was enough to set Mads' heart on overdrive. Besides Mister Baseball, nervous Myrna, and Arturo the arms dealer, there were other merchants present at the marketplace that Mads couldn't recognize if they tried, and they had a feeling there were more to be found further in. 

What Mads wanted to do was follow the bases, seeing for themselves all the Diamond had to offer. But, first, they had to eat some of those famous noodles. And, maybe, if they were lucky, they really, really wanted to find a certain pair of neon lights, as yellow as the stars that shown so clearly after nuclear annihilation. Although frankly, the idea of meeting Nick Valentine in the synthetic flesh scared the hell out of them. 

Baby steps. He isn't real, remember? An old mantra, and, honestly, not a very dependable one. The bullets felt real. The skid marks on their knees from falling, scrambling for safety, that all felt real. Mads had to assume that the human mind, and human innovation, were wonderful things indeed. Otherwise, their stuttering heart would get the best of them.

Shaking their head, Mads chose to ignore it. And what better way, then through a familiar face? They could hear Nat Wright on her wooden box hocking the next issue of her sister's paper, and Charlie tried to hide the tremor in their hands in the grit of their teeth as they found  _ Publick Occurrences _ close at hand. 

"Hey, you!" Nat called out as soon as they saw Mads passing by, their feet already pointed in the girl's direction. There she was, a girl no older than twelve standing atop a small, wooden crate, one arm full of papers while the other held one aloft, pointed in Charlie's direction. "You're new! Why don't you buy a paper and get to know the place!"

"Depends on who writes it," Mads replied as they approached, certain to leave some room between them and the kid when they stopped. Even in the Before, Mads never felt it right to just approach a child out of nowhere without giving them some breathing room. 

Not that they didn't think Nat couldn't defend herself, the girl probably had a weapon of her own tucked away in the skirt of hers. 

Glancing behind the youngest Wright, Mads gave  _ Occurrence _ a cursory glance, noting the gaping maw of the open garage door behind the kid. From what they could tell, the place was pretty packed with machinery. There was more than just an old printer and a couple of file cabinets shoved back there, but Mads could only guess what it was all for. 

"You wouldn't happen to be like one of those bozos in the stands," Mads asked, hooking a thumb over their shoulder with a joke and already amused by the ugly twist in Nat's face at the very idea. 

"What? Those guys? They wouldn't know quality if they ate it off my shoe for breakfast," Nat punctuated her declaration with a point at one of her sneakers using the edge of the paper, and Mads laughed, not bothering to smother their surprise. 

_ My god, the sass in this one _ ! Mads adored her at once.  _ That's a Wright, alright.  _

"But enough talking about those floozies. Buy one and try it out, the paper speaks for itself, lady. Guy? Whatever!" She looked frustrated, her cheeks pinked by the overhead sun. Hours spent outside, and the red sails of the market didn't reach over her home. That didn't stop her from working, though. 

Charlie laughed again to themselves over Nat's confusion. "Whatever works," They smiled, preening over their personal ambiguity even as they shrug, and fiddled with their pockets for caps.

"Hey, meaning to ask, did you come from one of those vaults," Nat asked as they made their trade, and Charlie hesitated only briefly as they handed over the paltry amount into the girls small, hand knit gloves. They were fingerless, like Charlie's, and Mads blinked away a brief memory of Piper gesticulating wildly at the gates of the city.

They hadn't seen her there, nor was the mayor strolling absently about. Charlie had wondered briefly if they'd missed the reporter entirely. Will she be calling me Blue, too? Or was that right entirely belonging to the Survivor themselves?

"Yes," Charlie answered Nat's question, smelling the hissing coldness of 111 through their nose at the very thought of it. "One-eleven, by Sanctuary. How could you tell?"

"It's that face of yours, newbie. No one around here looks as healthy as you do without some kind of work done," the Wright said blatantly, her short, black bob waving in the air. It was decorated with small beads, and the pink skirt she wore had faded with age. It was patched in places, as worn as the boots on her feet. But everything was recycled in the 'Wealth. 

"My sister will want to talk to you. Come by the _ Occurrence _ sometime, we could seriously use something new to talk about around here."

"I'll do that," Charlie could feel themselves smiling. Maybe they wouldn't miss the eldest Wright after all. "I can tell Piper about being frozen alive for the past who knows how many months now."

Nat's face scrunched again, and Charlie took their chance to leave. With a wave, they walked away from the question forming on the girl's face, wiggling their shoulders as they went.  _ Let Piper hear about that one, and I'll meet the reporter in no time. _

Away from the stand, and taking the short walk to their lunch, Charlie considered the paper again. Their new edition of the  _ Occurrence _ was thick with information, as was the material it was printed on. Recycled, no doubt, but hardly falling apart. Mads hummed over the evenly spaced letters that dominated the folded parchments of washed out gray, happy to see that it had actual articles, some of which were even hand written. 

A printer, and a scanner? Probably even a computer to help type up the rest, they think, eyes dancing with interest over what Piper had worked so hard on. They forced themselves to fold it up neatly, their stomach growling for attention. 

Mads delighted in being able to sit down with a warm meal while having something to read on the counter next to them. The vendor, Takahashi, puttered nearby, their voice track stuck in an infinite loop as they took orders for other customers, the one persistent quirk between both versions of the game that Mads liked seeing untouched. 

Myrna was having a sale on cameras. Abbot at the wall needed more green paint. A few smart suits from the stands had killed over from old age or sickness, and Sheng Kawolski swore his water hole was still the best place in the city to find a refreshing beverage. There were requests for new workers in the paper, scattered ads from various shops, and, to Mads enjoyment, the Synthetic Truth. For the first time in years Mads took the time to read it all the way through but found themselves frowning once they reached the end. 

What is Piper getting at? Mads had always assumed that she and Nick would get along, but just how well did they know each other in reality, and how did that play into her own ideas about synths in the 'Wealth?

In this reality, anyways. Mads put down the paper, humming under their breath, and picking at their bowl. I spent too much time with John in the game, I can't remember any of her opinions on the way things are. But if this is out, I've got a better cemented time frame...

After finishing their meal, Mads didn't know where to go first for answers. As entertaining as touring the Diamond seemed before, the idea had been pushed aside in favor of the game's looming storyline. Why bother playing again to follow the same, beaten horse? They couldn't help it, it was familiar, but not too much so. 

They were eager to see the differences this world presented. Just as they already had, with Preston Garvey. 

Charlie waited for Takahashi to take the bowl away so they can say their thanks and compliments, smiling as he repeated himself, and Mads left their stool with still no specific direction in mind.

Unprepared, they stiffened when they found themself under neon lights, a pair of captured stars housed in eye sockets scarred by age.

"Hey, sorry to interrupt," Nick Valentine spoke first, the film noir lyric of his voice sending shivers down Charlie's spine. "The kid at the stand said there was someone new in town I could talk to. Mentioned the yellow hair, you wouldn't happen to be them, would you?"

There's a quirk of a smile on Nick's face as he said it and Mads' eyes snagged on his exposed hand as it pointed at their fringe. Laughing almost giddily, Mads broke out of their shock long enough to run one of their own through the mess, and just barely held back a grin fit to bursting as they finally managed to speak. "Nick...Valentine, I was hoping to run into you."

"That so," Nick quirked an eyebrow, obviously noticing Mads' attention to his wiring. "Come by the city for the latest attraction and thought you'd grab a bite first?"

"Are you kidding? How could I not look into seeing one of Diamond City's only redeeming qualities," Charlie shook their head, laughing at the notion of doing anything but, and Mads almost bounced on their feet when surprise flitted across the old synth's face. "Oh, I'm being me again. I'm Mads," they offered a hand to the former cop. Nick's natural politeness was quick on the uptake, and his steel grip was gentle, preventing any metal from digging into Mads' skin even if most of it is covered in the material of their gloves. 

"That your given name, or taken," Nick quipped smoothly, and Mads smiled anew.

"It's Charlie Mads, in full," they confessed, scratching at a cheek when their hands parted. "Thought about giving myself something shiny, new, and ridiculous when I left the Vault, but I think I have enough weird to share with the world as is."

"" _ Mads _ "? You'll definitely fit right in here," Valentine commented, partially to himself. "I figured Vault, although you already look like you've got a bit of wear on you, kid," he says, not unkindly, and Mads thinks about it. The side arm, the backpack, and an ensemble any Hot Topic shopper would be envious of. Not to mention a peppering of head shots, both given and received, but who was counting? 

"Just wanted to ask a few questions, nothing to do with you personally, but a new set of eyes fresh from the outdoors would be appreciated."

"Of course, detective, I've got nowhere to be," Mads replied, and it's simple to shake off any impending gloom and doom when Nick nods. Sitting back down while still facing Nick, they hooked their hands underneath the seat, and propped their feet up on it's round foot rest. "Got a case you need help cracking?"

"Read my mind," Nick nods again, "But I guess the occupation gave it away. You been around the Common for a while? There's a kid I'm looking for, a gal with short black hair, pale complexion. She's been missing, and I've got ideas, but there are more than a few spots to hide out in the Wealth if you don't want to be found."

"You mean Darla, Skinny Malone's sweetheart," Mads states, and Nick's eye brows shoot straight up. Mads tries to keep themselves steady, nerves jittering under their skin, and the detective's visage shifts straight to suspicious. 

"Now how does some kid fresh from a Vault know the name of a triggermen king pin, as well as the girl's he's in cahoots with?"

"I know things, it's one of the reasons why I'm still alive out here," Mads answers, and wincing when Nick starts to frown. "Sorry, that sounded shady-."

"Not to mention cracked. What, do you mean you “know things”-?"

Charlie’s hands fluttered upwards in front of their face, the human wanting to quickly dislodge the discomfort building up between them. “I'm...screwing this up again," Mads said with a wince. Standing back up, they looked him in the eyes, aware of the height difference between them as his glowing twin suns of yellow peered down at them critically. They’re grateful that Nick's endless patience must be keeping him from turning around and leaving right then, but the situation could have blown up at any second. "What I mean is, I’m an information broker. I find as much information as I can in the 'Wealth, and with it I do what I can to help others.

"Anything you can find in a terminal, in someone's file cabinet, through conversation. I don't bribe or threaten, and I never get too invasive. I find what I need to help, and use it for exactly that."

The detective's narrowed vision had faltered, his expression clearing as Mads had gone on. "Kid, you're literally defining my job. You do what I do."

"Yes," Mads raised a finger, frankly feeling ridiculous. "But I'm not hired to do it. And, I'm being honest, I'm far less polite about it. What I have, people don't always know about.”

"So what's to stop me from dragging you into jail right now for basically admitting that you break into people's private lives without their consent on the off chance it may do them some good?"

"Trust," Mads stated, understanding completely when the old synth's eyes went dead. "I have limits, detective, and not just what it comes to what people keep inside their heads, behind lock and key. I'm not looking to dig through anyone's dirty laundry, not unless they deserve it."

"And who are you to define the sort of people who deserve to have their lives exploited in their way," Valentine argued a good point. It's by then that Mads noticed more then one person paying attention nearby. A drifter around the bar, Myrna at her shop. They really were putting on a show, and Charlie felt bad for dragging Nick into it. 

"Who really is," they asked firmly, although their voice raised an octave that they didn’t care for. "Some would say that the old laws are dead, but I don't think that's the case. People are naturally inclined to try to do what is right, detective. There are nuances, and gray exists everywhere. But if someone guns down a family home, it doesn't matter what sad story they might have, I help deal with the problem.”

Nick sighed out through his nose, looking no happier with the situation then when Charlie had started their spiel. “I understand some of what you’re saying, kid, but that sounds too close to vigilante justice for my taste.” When Charlie started to open their mouth, Nick raised his hand to stop them. “The sad thing is, that’s about all we have left here in the Commonwealth.”

“If it makes anything better, I’d like it if I ever do use my occupation the wrong way, I’d feel better if you dealt with me the same way you would anyone else,” Charlie said, rubbing the back of their neck as they thought inwardly on the matter. It would be so easy to abuse what they had, and twist the Wealth in whatever way they liked. Just to see what could come of it. I’m already doing that, in part.  _ Using my previous knowledge to get ahead in stories I’m not supposed to be a part of. _

That…was an odd thought. They were the player character, they were supposed to be the center of everything at the end of the day, right? The concept didn’t sit right with them though, not with Nick before them, seeming as real as the sunlight on their freckling skin. 

I’ll never move past this experience, even once it’s over and years have gone on. 

“I give you my word,” the detective said, putting a stop to their wandering thoughts. “If you ever start to become a pain in my ass, I’ll take care of you myself.”

Mads nearly snorted through their nose, absolutely loving his grumpy uncle façade. “I’ll hold you to it, detective.”

Nick peered around them, blinking back to Charlie in a moment of internal monologuing, no doubt. “Back to the matter at hand, before our tangent on  _ The Importance of Being Earnest _ ,” he stressed those words, Charlie relaxing with the return of Nick’s dry humor. “How’d you learn about Darla?”

"The Wealth is crawling with Triggermen, especially in the Common, and people like to gossip, especially with other members of their faction," Mads said, more than fudging a bit with the source of their intel. “The guards of Goodneighbor are the worst of them.”

Never mind that they hadn’t yet been to Goodneighbor, yet. But they did know that the pin striped wearing, gun toting odd balls that made up Hancock’s personal guard tended to drop such information on purpose. Mads was just glad that they had forewent visiting their favorite spot in the Commonwealth, after all. 

Because otherwise Nick could be in Skinny's clutches, and with no Sole currently to bail him out, and the simulation as unpredictable as it has been thus far...

He was the best part of the Diamond, and one of the greatest faces in the Wealth. This city needs Nick Valentine, and this game isn't afraid to kill for pleasure. 

"I learned about their elopement in Goodneighbor, but wasn't about to butt in where I wasn't asked."

Nick scoffed under his breath, looking off to the side, and Mads was glad that his ire wasn't aimed at them. At that moment, anyways. "Butt in? The kid's parents are worried sick, which is why I was called in to do just that," he turns his eyes back on them, not any more pleased than previously but not looking to throw Mads behind bars, either. "If she's not careful, she could get herself shot hanging out with a bunch of trigger happy hooligans, but thanks for the information. I'd like to say I appreciated the exchange, but you've raised more questions than answers, kid."

"Keeping people guessing is the only way I can keep them around, I think," Mads said, partially to themselves. 

"Yeah, well think of a different profession. The wrong person finds out you know something you shouldn't, it could land you in hot water," Nick said, backing off a beat. “But thanks.”

Sensing an end to the discussion, Mads stopped Nick from leaving with a hand on his shoulder, "Wait, are you going to grab Darla?"

"That's what I've been assigned, and I'm not about to stand by without trying to avoid her possible impending murder."

"Then I'm coming with you."

Nick actually looked dubious at Mads' statement, and then just tired. "First thing about brokers, they normally pay other people to deal with the messy details, not jump into the fray themselves."

"Yeah, I understand, that's more your line of work," Mads replied, and Nick's expression waned. "But brokers also take cash, and that'd get in the way of helping for helping's sake part of my big quest anyways. I didn't want to bother Darla, but I'm not letting you go in alone, not with the place crawling with gun toting fellows in pinstripe suits."

"I'm not gonna try to help out a kid while putting another in the line of fire, it isn't happening."

"Okay, then I'll just conveniently follow along and happen to shoot the same guys shooting at you." At Nick's sigh, Mads tried again, taking a different tactic. "Look, it's a walk to where Darla's got herself camped out. The streets are dangerous, we're bound to have company, especially so near the Pond. If you don't like the way I perform, I'll back off." 

"Why do I have the feeling that you would conveniently meet me at the other end of the Station even if that happened." Nick asked and received an exaggerated shrug as their unfortunate answer. "Didn't you say you didn't want to butt into Darla's business before?"

"I did, but I don't want anything to happen to you, Nick, and it doesn't look like you have back up," Mads said, not having waited for an argument either way. "You've done a lot for this city and you'll only continue to do that if you're still alive. Give me this, if not a terrible broker, or an ok-ish person, then as a member of the Minutemen militia."

Taken off guard again, Nick's eyes hardened on Mads, albeit not as harshly as he had once before. "Minutemen? Talk about a backstory, kid, can't you just work as a farmer like everyone else in this flowering wasteland?"

"Kind of hard to avoid being a little weird with flies the size of your head floating around," Mads snarked.

"And with a name like Charlie Mads," Nick shook his head. When another frown tugged at his mouth, Mads began to worry that they were going to have to play it the hard way. But then the detective let out a breath of air, "Fine, but I’m letting you off easy," he said, pointing a finger at Mads, and they raised their hands in mock surrender. "Things go south, I'll cuff you to a pole and pick you up on my way back."

Charlie bit fiercely back the urge to respond in a way far too ridiculous to be received well: “Don’t threaten me with a good time, detective.” No, that sort of comment had to be saved for later, perhaps for a certain someone. 

Releasing the hold they had on their bottom lip with their teeth, Charlie nodded. “Take the lead, Mr. Valentine, and I’ll keep an eye on our six.”

**Author's Note:**

> Believe it or not, they're good friends later.


End file.
